


Chekov Doesn't Do Grape Juice

by ReneeMR



Category: Star Trek XI AKA Reboot
Genre: M/M, McCoy - Freeform, McCoy/Chekov - Freeform, R, Star Trek XI - Freeform, chekov - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-28
Updated: 2010-01-28
Packaged: 2017-10-06 19:58:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/57228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ReneeMR/pseuds/ReneeMR
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Teaser: "Oh, my f*cking head. God damnit..."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chekov Doesn't Do Grape Juice

**Author's Note:**

> Written: 1-28-10
> 
> AN: Unbetaed comment fic for the st_respect Ship Wars: Surprise Bonus Round Prompt, 'Hangover.'

"Oh, my fucking head. God damnit..."

Chekov snickered as he stood in the doorway of the bathroom.

"Lights out. Lights. Out. Fucking lights off!! Fucking Chekov, is that you! Turn the fucking lights off!"

There was no way he could resist. Chekov began to giggle. "Doctor, you have hangover, _da_. Do you remember party?"

McCoy growled and reached out, searching blindly for a pillow. Upon finding one, he growled again and jammed it over his face. "Ow. Ow. Ow, fucking ow," came muffled from beneath the pillow.

Chekov crossed the room, and very carefully inched his way onto the bed until he knelt beside McCoy.

"Turn the damn lights off, I'm beggin' you, darlin'," McCoy moaned softly.

"I would love to," Chekov answered just as softly. "But we are not on _Enterprise_. Bellosians insisted we stay night. After party. Remember?"

"Not a thing after that... Uh, that stuff that tasted like grape juice...?"

"Was not grape juice." Chekov giggled. "But it is okay. I did not drink, so I will take care of you."

"Hypospray. Cure hangover. In my medkit, kid. No need for you to stay." McCoy waved his hand in Chekov's direction, hoping to direct him to the medkit. But his hand fell of his hip instead. His bare hip.

"Holy fuck! Chekov!" McCoy sat bolt upright in the bed. His first sight was of a gloriously naked and smiling Chekov kneeling beside him. He grinned back. For one shining moment. Then he turned green as a Vulcan and clutched his stomach as he rolled into a fetal position.

"Doctor," Chekov said quietly, but urgently, "bathroom or other recepticle?"

"Bathroom, if you help."

"I can do that."

With Chekov's help, and a fortunately short walk, McCoy just made it to the bathroom. As horrible as he felt, McCoy was impressed by Chekov's competence. He felt much better after his stomach was empty and he'd had some water and cleaned up. Chekov helped him back to bed, and shockingly, climbed under the covers with him. He nudged McCoy onto his stomach and began stroking his back soothingly.

"You are tense. Must relax, doctor." Chekov moved his hand to caress and massage the back of McCoy's neck, and he almost moaned at the wonderful feeling.

"Uh, kid, I, uh... I don't remember much of last night. Did, were we, ah, did you spend the night, you know, here?"

"_Da_. Was very good, doctor. I like you very much. I liked last night very, very much." For all that he was a genius, Checkov sometimes found it hard to communicate in Standard. If only McCoy understood Russian!

"Oh."

There was quiet in the room for several minutes as Chekov continued to minister to McCoy.

"Wish I remembered."

"Making new memories is allowed," Chekov leaned close and kissed the back of McCoy's neck.

"Kid! You dont have to... Oh, fuck!"

"As you wish," Chekov said with a smile.

End

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.


End file.
